


...and they were roomates

by SchweenWinchester



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: A single solitary racial slur, Alternate Universe - College/University, Gift Exchange, Hanzo is a stronk beef boy even pre t, M/M, Mutual Pining, Trans Character, Trans Hanzo Shimada, Trans Jesse McCree, Trans Male Character, Trans Soldier: 76 | Jack Morrison, Trans character written by trans author, Transphobia, both of them are giant gay disasters, young mchanzo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-11
Updated: 2019-01-11
Packaged: 2019-10-08 11:05:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17385293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SchweenWinchester/pseuds/SchweenWinchester
Summary: They actually weren't roommates.  Hanzo and Jesse are tutors at the college learning center and Very Definitely Are Not Gay For Each Other.





	...and they were roomates

**Author's Note:**

> This is for Trans76 on the Target Practice discord! This was meant to be posted on the 2nd but unfortunately my phone lines- and therefore internet- got knocked out until just now. Mea culpa, mea maxima culpa, but it's here now and I have no regrets.

“I realize you need this grade to pass.  I realize also that your entire college career hinges on you getting out of academic probation.  But it is the day before your final project is due, you clearly did this entire paper last night, possibly while drunk or on some other form of intoxicant, and it is six pages of incomprehensible gibberish.  I will, however, give you points for proper formatting and double-spacing. That was very well done and might net you a whole half of a percentage point. I would mention word count, but I’m not certain that any of these are words.”

Hanzo capped his red pen, the pages before him doing a fairly passable imitation of the elevator scene from The Shining.

“You are going to fail this course again.  You are going to be ejected from college. You have chosen to spend yet another semester wasting your parents’ money on drinking and partying, and now it has finally caught up to you.  Good day, Mr. Ream. You may as well go to your dorm and begin packing, because there is no point in taking any of your final exams save for the few points you’ll earn from writing your name at the top of the page.”

From the next table over, Jesse shivered, the tip of his pencil snapping as he pressed just a _little_ too hard on the page. The tutoring center was always swamped just before finals, especially by students who suddenly remembered why they were in college to begin with and rushed to complete assignments that they’d probably been told about in the very beginning of the semester.  Jesse didn’t have so much of a problem- usually one could bullshit creative writing given enough stimulants- but he didn’t envy one Hanzo Shimada, the slightly terrifying biology and chemistry tutor at the station next to his, at least not judging by what he’d overheard since he was hired last semester.

He glanced down at his doodle.  It was totally ruined, but it _had_ been a pretty decent rendering of Hanzo’s glare, the specific one that gave him hot little squidgy feelings in his fuckboy jeans that totally weren’t gay but actually were.

As if Hanzo would ever look at him with anything other than disdain.  Jesse figured he knew enough about Hanzo to figure on never figuring into his thoughts or life or anything else.  Hanzo was mister organization, mister everything just so. Mister four-point-oh. Mister definitely too good for the likes of Jesse McCree, who knew all too well he was here on a pity scholarship and probably filled some kind of quota or another but managed to pull decent enough grades to keep his ass in a few different honors societies and snag a cushy above minimum wage job at the tutoring center that had a retirement plan and everything.

And, of course, a spot sitting near Hanzo Shimada, the best and worst perk of all.

\-----

Off went the binder, Hanzo grunting with the effort of pulling it off after having it on way too long.  Again. As usual. Had it been up to him he would be sequestering himself in his room whenever he wasn’t in class, but he knew his parents would be furious if he didn’t participate in clubs, societies, volunteer opportunities.  At the very least he’d begged off of Greek Life successfully, though having to bring up the recent string of hazing deaths wasn’t something he particularly relished. At the very least the tutoring center was paying him something worth socking away for top surgery, since he would most certainly have to cover it on his own, just like having to save up for testosterone.

He rubbed his aching ribs, wincing as he undressed and lay on the bed, nude and sore and unhappy.  His usual students had been fine, the few who’d stopped in early in the semester and had returned to just have their work double checked before handing it in were mostly fine, but the sudden onslaught of procrastinators who demanded he fix their shoddy work or verbally abused him by turns had just been too much.  He hadn’t wanted to cause a scene in the center, but tearing down the ones he knew were safe to call hopeless to their faces had felt lovely.

And then there was Jesse.  He’d only briefly caught his name, had never really spoken to him save at the yearly orientation, but hearing the soft rumble of his voice just over his shoulder was a delight that he would never admit to reveling in. After all, liking men and _being_ a man were mutually exclusive things for his family.  But oh, what a man. Overhearing him talk about thematic shifts in fiction made Hanzo’s heart thrill, even though he’d never cared about fiction before in his life.

But it was an entirely moot point.  Jesse would never give him the time of day.  Jesse likely did not know or care that Hanzo was even alive. And as far as Hanzo was concerned, it was going to stay that way.

\-----

“I think you ought to talk to him.  Not with the expectation of romance, but because you might have a chance to make friends on campus.”  Jack looked over his glasses at Jesse, who was curled up unhappily on the big comfy couch in his office.  “I think it would be a good idea for you to stop isolating yourself so much. You have a lot of fear and a lot of feelings of inadequacy, both academically and personally, and finding someone you can talk to- _that isn’t just your therapist_ \- is an excellent idea.  Besides, it’s nice to have other trans men to relate to, speaking from personal experience.”

“Yeah, but...”  Jesse played with his fingers idly, face screwed up.  “You ever see someone and you just know they’re gonna look down on you?  He’s rich as hell. I’m not. It’s a goddamn miracle I’m even at this school.”

“What did I say about inadequacy?”  He pursed his lips, staring pointedly at the surly young man before him.  “Do you think I met my husband by sitting around and moping in my room?”

“You said you met him when you threw a piece of cake at the ROTC guys and he happened to be the one who got hit.  That’s not a real social interaction.”

“It started a conversation, didn’t it?  You don’t have to be so drastic. Just say hello.  Offer him a bottle of water. You’re in a much safer place here than you were back home.”  A gentle smile twitched at the corner of his mouth. “Complain about your job. I’m sure he has plenty of things to say about it.”

Jesse whined, flopping melodramatically on the couch, face screwed up in annoyance.  “I guess. I just feel kind of guilty and weird, you know? Every so often I overhear him getting shit from the people who come in and I just never manage to react.  It puts me right back where I was before I came here. Scares the shit outta me.”

“You don’t have to react in the moment, but afterwards, you might offer him some support.  I’m sure he’d be glad to have someone in his corner, even in a passive role.”

\-----

“I can’t fucking believe you won’t help me!  What the fuck are you even here for?”

“I’m here to assist students in understanding their classwork, not to do their work for them.”  Hanzo sniffed derisively. “If you cannot be bothered to do a simple worksheet, I cannot help you.  Go away so I can work with someone who actually belongs here.”

“Fuckin’ asshole chink!  How about I show you who really belongs here!”

Chad fucking Troutmann, bane of Jesse’s life last semester and what the hell was he doing here for tutoring from _Hanzo_?

“Please leave.”  Hanzo’s voice was remarkably steady for someone faced down with about two hundred thirty pounds of pissed-off star football playing all American beefslab.  “I cannot help you. This is a simple worksheet for a simple biology elective and you should be able to understand it.”

A chair went toppling, right against Jesse’s table, and he startled, anxiety catching in his throat as he leaped away.  Aw, fuck, Hanzo was tiny and he was definitely not going to be able to handle Troutmann, but Jesse-

Jesse...

“H-hey,” he said, voice quavering.  “Leave him alone.”

He could see the muscular lips curl in derision.  “ _Him?_  You’re gonna call _that_ a-”

And the next thing he knew, Troutmann was on the ground, stunned, mouth gaping open and shut like the fish his family was named after.

Jesse stared down at him in shock.  Had he done that? No, he was still in the same position as a few moments before.  What in the hell had happened?

He looked up at Hanzo, who was returning to a standing position from some martial arts pose that looked way more badass than it had any right to, and realization dawned on Jesse.

“Are you alright?”

He nodded slowly, eyes wide as Hanzo nudged Troutmann with a foot.

“I suppose I’m going to lose this job,” he said, almost mournfully.  “But I am glad you are unhurt. Thank you for your help, but it was unnecessary.”

Well, there went his chance.  Jesse could feel his face flaming in embarrassment as he ducked his head.  Of course he would blow his only chance to be interesting to Hanzo-

-he felt a hand on his arm.  Hanzo was touching him. _Hanzo was touching him._

\-----

“Jesse? Are you certain he didn’t hit you?”  Hanzo felt terribly self conscious in the shocked silence of the tutoring center, Troutmann still gasping and rolling on the floor.  What a baby.

“Yeah, I’m, uh, I’m fine.  Just, like, surprised.” Warm brown eyes met Hanzo’s and he could feel his gut doing somersaults.  And Jesse was allowing him to touch him. “Are you a fucking ninja?”

“Nearly.  I need to get out of here.  Will you walk me back to the dorm?”  Hanzo was doing something remarkably stupid, but it was a chance to talk to Jesse before he lost his job, was expelled, and forced into indentured servitude for humiliating his parents for attacking someone on campus.  “Please, I do not want to be alone right now.”

“Sure, yeah, of course. Yeah, I just... Sure,” Jesse said, voice weak as Hanzo took his arm. “Um, let me grab my stuff. Please.”

“Of course.”

Hanzo watched, face blank as Jesse fumbled with his belongings. Inside he was both sobbing and cheering, fully prepared to die. At the very least, he had the help of a painfully handsome boy.

It took a minute before they were out the door, arm in arm, Hanzo hiding how shaken he was as best he could. The silence stretched between them, going from fairly normal to awkward to painful by the time they'd reached the dorm.

He had to break the silence.

“Do you want a boyfriend.”  It wasn’t a question, and Hanzo immediately hated himself for saying it, because _who even asked that way it was so incredibly third grade and he had to go home immediately and_

“Guh,” was the very intelligent answer he received.

“Never mind.  I was temporarily not in my right-”

“Yes?  Please?”  Jesse grabbed his hand, and their palms were equally clammy and gross.  It was strangely reassuring. “Listen. Hanzo. I, uh, can we talk in private?  Because I’ve been trying to get up the guts to say hi to you for the entire past semester and there is absolutely no way I’m not gonna say yes to that.”

\-----

Jesse couldn’t believe his luck.  Half an hour into emotional self-flagellation and chill and he was in Hanzo’s lap, kissing him, and Hanzo was a really good kisser, and he was so _strong_ and _wonderful_ and Jesse couldn’t help but pull his shirt off to try to show off his chest hair, sparse as it was for the time being, and then Hanzo was staring hungrily at his surgery scars and then there was a mouth on him and oh sweet Jesus, Mary, Joseph and all them little angels, Hanzo was doing his level best to melt Jesse’s brain.

It was working.

“I guess you’re not as straight as I thought you might be,” Jesse breathed, eyes blown wide and dark with lust.  “Oh god-”

“Shut up,” was the clipped response, and then Hanzo shoved his hand down Jesse’s jeans, making Jesse’s last two brain cells explode into fun candy colors moments later.


End file.
